The Path of the Dovahkiin: The Return
by wolf.of.the.forgiven95
Summary: Raghnall Greatsword has just returned to Jorrvaskr from Helgen after the dragon attacked. What will he find when he returns?


**I was reading something from thegirlfromgraz and got this idea: I can do a series of one shots for my fans while I work on my other stories "The Black Knight" and "The Bane of Tartarus." So this is something I'm going to do for awhile while I work on those stories.**

_**The Path of the Dovahkiin: The Return**_

His name was Raghnall Greatsword and he didn't know that the events that were about to lay out before him would define his destiny. The man was more than just a typical Nord hero, even greater than the Companions he was a part of. He was the Dovahkiin- the Dragonborn -and he was about to discover this.

He was in Helgen on a mission from Farkas to watch over the execution of Ulfric Stormcloak. Somehow, along the southern border of Skyrim, the man had been captured and taken to the village to meet his end. The man would die at the hands of imperials. It was a pity. In the mind of Raghnall, however, this was what was meant to be and should finally come to fruition. The years he spent in the Legion had morphed his mind.

Then, the dragon attacked. A mass of chaotic pandemonium exploded from the people within the village as the buildings burned and the people ran for cover. The dragon had brought the city to its knees. To ruin.

Somehow, Raghnall managed to escape and run to Riverwood with an old legionnaire by the name of Hadvar. They were tired and sore from their last endeavor. They could barely stand and Raghnall did not want to deal with the stares he got from Alvor and Sigrid's young daughter. From first glance one would see him as a regular nord hero- a great iron sword, thick muscles, broad shoulders, and being very attractive.

He stayed the night and set out for Whiterun the next morning. The jarl needed to know what was going on with the dragons and Raghnall Greatsword was the man who needed to tell him. Other than this, he would have to return to Jorrvaskr where his friends and shield siblings were. He didn't know if they would be happy or not to see him, but this is where he needed to be, and this is where he went after informing the jarl of the dragons. A deep breath before the doors and he pushed them open, walking in.

The first thing he saw was a group of people circled around a fight between the usual combatants, Athis and Njada. He leaned on the doors, crossing his arms and waited for the victor to be decided and for him to be noticed, and while Athis was in a headlock from Njada, he pointed up at the door, wide-eyed, and half shouted, half gurgled, "Raghnall!"

A rare smile found its way on his face. Everyone in the hall ran up to him to pat him on the back and see if he was still in one whole piece, but one person in the group pushed her way through to get at him. Fir, the Breton battle mage threw her arms around him, tearing up and whispering in his ear, "I was so worried."

Raghnall put his hand in her honey blonde, brown-streaked hair and held her for some time, before looking into her violet eyes. She had taken to a lack to any personal hygiene for at least a day, and it was obvious she knew what happened at Helgen. Already a slender girl, she could not afford to lose much weight. Slender, yet curvy, with soft skin and dainty hands, not strong enough to hold a blade, she was a very delicate and beautiful creature, yet had an attitude to match her beauty. She and Raghnall had been best friends since they were kids. They got into and out of trouble together, always keeping one on track with the other. Helgen was the first catastrophe they had been through without each other. They were spiritually linked in a way that many people could not understand, and that very few would go through their lives without knowing the pleasure of the kind of link they shared.

"I'm sorry," he said to her, "I never meant to worry you." All of the companions watched them as their reunion happened in the middle of the mead hall. Everyone in the hall questioned how these two were not together, but even with their friendship never progressing, every companion decided they were meant to be. Much to their dismay, the companions teased them constantly.

After a few minutes, the awkward stares of Fir's and Raghnall's shield siblings broke their embrace, and for the first time, Raghnall noticed the jet black dire wolf- larger and more attractive than the wolves of Skyrim or Cyrodiil -running up to him. It tackled him to the ground from joy. "Hey, Shadow," Raghnall said in a playful voice, "hey, boy. How are you? Did you miss me?" But their reunion was interrupted when a large, rough tongue lapped him on the side of his cheek and scratched his face. "OW! Dangit!" He looked up to see a nearly seven hundred pound saber cat that he knew so well. "Jessamine? What are you doing here?" He stood up and looked to everyone in the mead hall individually. First, Skjor and Farkas, then Aela, then Torvor and everyone else, then came to Fir, who looked down, her face turning a deep shade of red.

"Um..." She stammered, "There's something you should know."

A wise man's voice, grained from age, called from the back, "Everyone, please return to what you were doing before Raghnall returned. I must speak with him privately."

A shiver went down his spine that could chill even the coldest ice wraiths, and even made the saber cat and dire wolf whimper. Whenever Kodlak Whitemane, harbinger of the Companions, called you out individually and personally, it was never a good thing. Everyone went away nervously. When Fir led the animals off, she looked over her shoulder once at her best friend as if to say, _Good luck._

Kodlak pulled the Nord aside. The fact that he hadn't given him a chance to rest must have told him things were bad; bad enough to be handled right at that moment. "Hello, son," the old man said, "How are you? I trust you are well after what happened at Helgen?"

Trying to control his nerves, he replied, "I am, sir."

"I must apologize for sending you on that mission. Had I known that the dragons of old had returned, I never would have sent you. Was Ulfric Stormcloak executed?"

"No, sir."

This seemed to please the old man. "I see. Well, then, perhaps the Imperials will try even harder now to take Windhelm. It always seems that Ulfric can bend favor to his will. But, I feel I must ask you a more important question," He looked at the younger man intently, with eyes that have seen many years, "Why is their a necro-cleric of Arkay and Kynareth in the hall?"

They stopped outside of the harbinger's quarters. Raghnall looked at the older Nord, struck with a sense of surprise and awe-struck deference. There was only one necro-cleric the boy knew, and he could not believe that he would see her again, after years of being separated.

Kodlak opened the door, and in the room they both saw Vilkas and a tall woman in black robes, with the circular, rosary amulet of Arkay, god of death and life, and the diamond-shaped amulet of Kynareth. Her hair was short, but her bangs fell over one of her brown eyes, her skin was pale, her body slender, and her smile light and warm. Perfect for a priestess.

Raghnall's jaw dropped at the sight of the woman. He let out one single word, "Emaline..."

Vilkas and the woman looked at him. When she saw him, she smiled at him and spoke in a very familiar voice, "Hello, brother."


End file.
